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October 11, 2002
He’s whistling as he sweeps the garage. Chariots of Fire. It’s unusual. Many of the staff on the property whistle or sing while they work. But mostly they sing African songs.
“Vangelis,” I say as I pass.
“I love it” he replies.
I wonder where he first heard it. And what it is that he loves about it.
This is what I love about this country. The strange cultural overlaps and mutations. Like the Soweto String Quartet, started in someone’s bathroom. Despite years of division and separation, moving towards understanding. Despite the distances we have to cross.
Chariots of Fire.